Aster, the Witchy Disaster

The last story for my Coursera course. I passed! Yay! This time I had to write a story in which there was a significant change. My story is about a young witch named Aster, who’s magic keeps backfiring on her. It’s a little bit different from what I normally do, I made it into a poem. So here it is, enjoy!

There once was a witch named Aster,whose magic was quite the disaster.She’d chant and spell and brew and curse,but nothing ever went from bad to worse.

A curse to hate would always bring love,and a spell to weaken would instead make tough.Aster just didn’t know where she went wrong,when her potion to depress made people break out in song.

The villagers even began to seek out the poor witch,Whenever they encountered so much as a hitch.They’d kept coming to her cottage down the road,no matter how many times she tried to turn them into toads.

One day Aster decided she’d had quite enough,and gathered all her scrolls and herbs and stuff.‘This time’, she thought, her heart filled with glee,‘this time I’ll teach you all to fear me!’

Feather of Jay and a sprig of woad,sapphires and azureus frogs, a whole load.Into the bubbling cauldron it all went,stirring until her spoon was gnarled and bent.

She chanted and sang her evil spell,grinning as her power rose and fell.She cackled as she stirred her cauldron’s brew,but then: *poof* her hair turned a bright, bright blue.

She stumbled back, in total shock,her fingers trembling as she grabbed a cobalt lock.‘Hells bells and a coven of ugly witches’,she thought, ‘this will have the whole town in stitches.’

She couldn’t be seen like this, not now, not ever,but turning her hair back turned out to be quite the endeavour,Night upon night she cursed, studied and hexed,until she was so tired she couldn’t read the ancient texts.

Her hair stayed blue no matter how hard she tried,so one day she decided to wear it with pride.She donned herself in a bright azure gown,and held her head high as she went into town.

There were murmurs and whispers but nobody chuckled,or laugh long and loud until their knees buckled,In fact, they were smiling and slightly in awe,Aster’s pride growing with all that she saw.

Then up came a-running a very young lassie,Her eyes bright and her mouth very sassy.‘Aster, Aster,’ she called, ‘your hair is al blue,’‘I love it, I love it, it looks so good on you.’

Aster felt something then, she’d never felt before,a warm glowing, all the way to her core.And when the girl said; ‘you are so cool!,the young witch couldn’t help, but smile like a fool.

More people came, to talk and even hug,and thank Aster for all of their luck.Aster saw them all, so happy and glad,and thought: ‘maybe being good, isn’t all bad.’

It actually reminded me of something Annie MG Schmidt could have written, where as a toddler you laugh at all the interaction between Aster and the people, but as a grown up you see it from a different perspective and still smile